Pen Knife
by miss-suga13
Summary: Seth seriously injures Eddie. Written for the OCSFC.
1. Stab

"Pen Knife" 

**Author:** miss suga 

**Rated:** PG13 

This story was written for **runawaylover29 **for the OCSFC. The sentence originally came from **Joey51**. The sentence was: 

"Seth seriously injures Eddie." 

**Disclaimer:** I own absolutamente nada. Translation? I own nothing. 

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Seth Cohen hugged Captain Oats close to him as he got used to being back in his own bed.

Well, he hadn't really forgotten it, seeing as he was only gone for a week before the coast guard picked him up, but still.

He lived in the wild of the ocean for seven days. That had to count for something.

His father said things would be better in the morning.

He believed him.

"Hey, kid."

Sandy pat his son on the back and went to get some toast.

"Hi dad."

"I was thinking. How would you like to go visit Ryan? He's been dying to hear from ya. He helped us look for you, you know."

Yes, he did know. He heard all about it from his mother. All about how Ryan had been a hero and guided his parents while they tried to find him.

He heard all about his fucking mission to "help" his friend.

"Here are the keys."

Seth watched Sandy hesitate to hand his own son the keys to the car. He wouldn't hesitate if it was Ryan.

"Thanks, dad."

---------------------------------------------------------------

Seth felt as though his parents had gotten used to not having him around in that week and were trying to get things back to how they liked them.

Without him.

The smarter part of him was telling him that Sandy was going to get in a lot of trouble for letting him go to Chino on his third day back from his little trip.

Sandy thought he was being understanding. Letting Seth see his friend.

He was wrong.

Seth wanted to be as far away as possible from Ryan. He hated Ryan right now.

Still, it wouldn't be all that bad to see him.

Chino had always seemed desolate in the descriptions he had heard from his father, but never had Seth seen a place of such poverty. The rickety steps leading to Theresa's house were falling apart, and the door was scratched and old.

He almost knocked, but that was before he heard it.

A yelp of pain that came from within the house.

His first thought? That Ryan was hitting Theresa. He didn't know why, and he felt terrible for it later, but it seemed like the right assumption at the time.

A crash, a yell of something muddled by the thick door, and then another crash.

Seth reached for the doorknob with trembling hands and turned it.

The door creaked open to reveal Theresa in the corner, shaking like Seth's hand was shaking.

Seth opened the door a little bit more. Now he could hear the bitter words being spat out. He couldn't see the blows being dealt, but he could hear the screams of hatred and the whimpers of pain.

He opened the door a little bit more, and he could swear that his heart stopped beating for one, painful moment.

Ryan was getting his head smashed into the wall, and little pieces of plaster flew into the air, along with droplets of blood from Ryan.

From Seth's friend. His real friend.

_"I'll kill you!"_

Seth opened the door a lot more, seeing the man who was giving out the blows to his only friend.

Eddie. Eddie was hurting Ryan. Theresa was in a corner, yelling something that Seth couldn't-- and didn't want to-- hear.

Eddie's fists seemed attracted to Ryan's face. His ribs, his torso. He seemed to enjoy watching Ryan slowly change from a human to a monster.

_"Leave him alone!"_

Now he heard what was being said. Theresa was screaming that.

She kept on screaming. Eddie seemed to hear her, and he turned to look at her.

His eyes were savage.

Ryan, showing more strength than Seth would have given him credit for, grabbed for his ankle and pulled him down.

Seth stood there, absolutely still, watching his friend get his head slammed into the wall again.

His heart wouldn't stop its hummingbird rhythm within his chest.

_"You took her away from me."_

Finally, Seth took a step into the house. Theresa seemed to notice him, but she didn't say anything.

Seth's mouth was hanging open, and his eyes were wide as he saw Ryan realize where his friend was.

_"I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!"_

Eddie held Ryan up against the wall, and he struggled to keep Ryan still as he tried to get something out of his pocket.

Ryan fought back weakly, pulling at the two rough hands. He wriggled around in Eddie's grasp, and he reminded Seth of the fish he caught on a fishing trip that one time.

Seth took two steps forward and slammed the door.

His presence was now known.

"Get away from him."

Eddie looked him over and let Ryan go.

The heap that lay half held up against a wall and half on the ground was not Ryan. It was a shadow of Ryan.

_"Seth..."_

Seth ignored the desperate whimper of a word that escaped Ryan's lips.

Eddie was standing near Seth now, but he wasn't in front of Ryan. Seth could still see Ryan.

"Who the hell are you?"

Eddie snarled at Seth, and took his hand out of his pocket. There was nothing in it. Seth took that to be a good sign.

"I'm Seth."

Words said carefully, without a hint of sarcasm, without a hint of wittiness.

Eddie curled his hands into merciless fists, but Seth ignored that.

_"Seth..."_

He ignored that too. That little whisper that came from the wall. The wall that was now bleeding profusely.

"Leave him alone and get out."

Seth loved how he said that. As though he were a police officer, enforcing goodness in the world.

_"Please, Seth... Please leave."_

Ryan was trying to get up now, but without a moment's hesitation, Eddie kicked him back down.

Seth took a short, angry breath and got a step closer to Eddie.

The man looked at the curly haired boy and shoved him. It was a gentle shove. This kid did not deserve to be involved in this. It wasn't worth getting hurt over.

Ryan wasn't worth getting hurt over.

"Move."

Seth's voice was low and menacing, and when Eddie didn't comply, he took a quick step to the side and ran over to his friend.

"Buddy... Hey..."

For a few seconds, everything was good. Everything was fine.

Seth was taking Ryan's hand and patting it gently, and Ryan was looking at him with pleading eyes.

_"Seth, please... Please don't..."_

And then the little hourglass of hope was empty, and Eddie's rough hands pulled Seth back and shoved him to the ground.

Seth supported himself with a nearby table. It was pretty. Decorated with a cute little tablecloth.

"Get the hell out, kid. I mean it. Get out or get hurt."

Seth purposely dusted himself off, even though he saw no dust on himself.

He strode over to Ryan's side, not deterred when Eddie shoved him back again.

And again.

And again.

Seth stood up again, faltering just a little bit.

_"Seth!"_

Ryan Atwood was actually crying. Small tears were exploding from his eyes like those bombs that Seth heard about. The ones that had never gone off, for all those years? Just waiting for someone to touch them, and then...

Bam?

Like that.

"Hey, Ryan. It's alright, man. It's gonna be cool."

Seth gave Eddie a glare and ducked down to sit next to his friend. His best friend.

He had learned all about ducking from the jocks. You ducked your head and maybe that way, you could avoid a punch to the face.

_"I'm sorry..."_

Seth clasped his friend's hand and told him to shut up.

Everything was gonna be ok.

And then Eddie turned him around and punched him in the face.

"Get the hell out!"

The scream was much too despondent to be coming from a man who had everything in control, and so Seth responded to the empty threat by punching back.

The two were brawling in no time, and it surprised Seth how much damage he could do with his two hands.

And, well, his foot.

_"No, don't... Please Eddie... Please don't hurt him."_

That was all Seth could hear when Eddie had his forearm over his throat.

It was all he could hear when he saw him fumble with a pen knife in his pocket.

_"Kill me instead! That's what you..."_

This was all wrong. There wasn't supposed to be a pen knife. Ryan wasn't supposed to be held up by a wall. Theresa... well Theresa was supposed to be calling the cops. That was good.

_"He's just a kid... Don't hurt him."_

That was what he heard. Did he hear that correctly? He was older than Ryan, and he was calling him a kid.

Eddie disputed with his original idea of what to do with the knife.

Just a kid? Seth was_ not _just a kid. He was not.

Would a kid take the pen knife away from Eddie? I think not.

_"Seth... What..."_

Now everything was wrong. Now Seth's heart was beating much too hard. Now everything was moving too quickly. This was definitely not supposed to happen.

The knife wasn't supposed to slide into Eddie.

No. No, this was wrong. This was all wrong. Eddie's eyes were wide, and he fell on top of Seth.

The handle of the blade dug into Seth, and he whimpered in pain.

"Oh god."

Seth pushed the unconscious man off him and fell to the ground.

From his spot on the cold, cold floor he could see Ryan, eyes formed into small slits, looking at nothing in particular. Then they closed.

They closed, and Seth wobbled over to his friend.

"Ryan?"

When he got no response, his own eyes welled with tears.

"Ryan? Ryan, buddy, wake up. It's ok now."

A grunt, a small whimper, and a shaking hand. But no open eyes.

They were swelling shut.

One of them was, anyways. Oh, this was not good. Definitely not good.

_"Seth..."_

Seth nodded and smiled. He rested Ryan's head in his hand and on his lap and tried to wipe some blood away.

He yelled at Theresa to make sure Eddie was alright. She nodded.

_"You ok?"_

That seemed an odd question for Ryan to ask, considering.

Ryan closed his eyes again, and Seth smacked him lightly.

"Don't you go falling asleep on me or anything. This isn't like one of those boring movies you start snoring over."

A small chuckle. A groan, and a look from left to right.

"This isn't right."

"Tell me about it."

"What's going on?"

Seth didn't answer that. The police were taking way too long. Theresa was looking for something.

A pen knife on the ground was covered from the end of the handle to the very tip of the blade. With blood.

Theresa had a wad of towels, and she put them over the patch of blood on Eddie's torso. Seth shuddered and turned back to his friend.

His brother. Ryan Atwood. No, Ryan Cohen. That didn't sound right. Ryan Atwood-Cohen.

This was retarded. Why was he thinking about this now? Where the hell were the cops?

"Seth?"

Ryan seemed alert now. He seemed to notice Eddie on the floor and he looked at him.

Piercing blue eyes that seemed to understand what was going on.

"Eddie? What..."

Seth told him to shut up and to not pay attention to Eddie. He asked him where it hurt, and Ryan laughed, grimaced.

"Everywhere, man."

So his little stint with the knife made him a man, huh?

"...And I think my nose is broken..."

Seth realized he'd been looking at nothing for the past minute.

Where the fuck were the damn cops?

Wait a second. Seth didn't want the cops. He'd stabbed someone. He was going to go to jail. This was definitely not good.

He looked at Ryan.

"Yeah, that's too bad, kid. 'Cause your nose was _so_ nice to begin with."

Another few seconds of laughter from Ryan. He didn't seem to mind being called a kid.

The laugh ended with a sharp intake of breath, and Ryan clamped his eyes shut.

"Dizzy..."

Seth brushed some of his hair away from his bloodied forehead and nodded.

"Everything's fine though, Ryan. Don't worry."

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More soon? Yes. Hopefully.


	2. Talk

To whom it may concern...

This is not slash. I swear. It's just that Ryan has accidental chemistry with everything. Innanimate objects, Seth, Kirsten at times. I'm very sorry if it seemed slashy. It was not meant to be slashy.

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Everything was going to be alright.

If Seth kept on telling himself that, it was going to be true.

He carefully dropped Ryan's head to the floor and shuffled over to the kitchen to get some towels.

A moan came from the floor. Where Eddie was.

Theresa looked up at him and took one of the towels from his hand. The white one.

The other was pink with little blue flowers on it.

"Here you go, buddy."

Ryan had fallen unconscious again, and Seth found an uneasy relief in wiping the blood away from Ryan's head when he wasn't awake.

At least this way, he didn't have to be in any more pain than he was already in.

The towel settled over the gash that was bleeding slugglishly on the back of Ryan's head. It became heavy as Seth pressed down on it.

Ryan's eyes sprung open and his eyes danced from left to right, his face crinkled in pain.

Seth pulled the towel away.

"Sorry, Ryan. Just trying to slow the bleeding."

Ryan shook his head and sat up, supporting himself with the bloody wall.

"You don't have to do that. It's ok. I'll go to the doctor eventually."

Seth didn't try to get Ryan to lie down again. That would be silly. What Ryan wanted to do, he would do, no matter what was trying to stop him.

"You'll go to the doctor now. I've got the cops coming here any minute now."

Ryan had his hand on the back of his head, and at Seth's words, he dropped it.

Seth tried to ignore the fact that it was slick with the sticky, red substance.

"Cops? No, Seth. No."

Ryan backed up against the wall. Seth watched as his breathing became increasingly erratic, his hurt ribs constricting his normal breathing habits to resume.

"Ryan, you need medical attention. And so does--"

He couldn't finish that sentence.

Oh god, what had he done? He had stabbed someone. He was going to jail, and he knew it. He deserved it.

"Did you--"

Seth looked at Ryan, who swallowed his nervousness and took a risked glance at the bloody mess on the living room floor.

Seth nodded, and Ryan sunk back down to the floor, shaking violently.

"You should've gone home..."

Seth laughed bitterly.

"And leave you here to fend for yourself?"

Ryan didn't look very amused. Actually, he didn't look amused at all.

Seth put his hands on his face, but pulled them away after a second.

Hands that had stabbed another man. Another person. Another living, breathing person.

Now Seth could hear the blade sliding into Eddie's stomach. The look of shock plastered on Eddie's face as Seth's eyes widened at what he had done.

The little whimper of fear that came from Seth as Eddie fell limply on top of him, dead weight on the feeble seventeen year old.

Seth closed his eyes, trying not to see Eddie on the ground. Eddie was bleeding because of him.

The visions parading themselves in front of his eyes when they closed were worse, so he opened them, panicked, and averted his eyes from Theresa and Eddie.

Ryan had blacked out again. Seth lay on the ground and covered his face with his hands again.

He hadn't realized that he himself was bleeding as well. There was a cut on his forehead, and a dull, throbbing pain in his cheek.

He looked at Ryan, head tilted and eyes closed, his breathing coming out in shuddering breaths, and realized that Eddie had shown mercy with Seth.

He hadn't shown mercy with Ryan.

But Seth hadn't shown mercy with Eddie, so what did that make him? The assailant?

He hadn't known what he was doing when he stabbed him. Now he remembered how he got the knife.

It had been dangerously close to his neck, and when Ryan had yelled something to Eddie, and he had looked away, it had been pure luck that Seth had gotten hold of the blade.

"Seth... What..."

Seth looked at his hand. He hadn't seen the cut on it.

Now that he knew it was there, it started hurting just as much as the slash on his forehead.

He could still see Eddie's eyes when the blade slid into his shirt, and then into his skin.

Eyes wide, mouth slightly open in shock.

"Seth... What..."

Seth could see himself after he had stabbed Eddie, a whimpering mess. He hadn't given his reaction much thought. As far as he knew, he had cold heartedly stabbed a man and kicked him off of his body.

Sirens. Getting closer to the house.

God, what was going to happen now?

Ryan stirred slightly, but his eyes remained clamped shut.

Seth wished that he could do that. Just zonk out and wake up when everything was fine again.

Ryan opened his eyes, short, wheezing breaths escaping from his mouth.

"Tell them I did it..."

He looked at Eddie out of the corner of his eyes for a moment, and then he looked back at Seth.

Seth frowned and shook his head slowly.

"You've got a record, Ryan. I don't. If there was no other reason than that, I'd still take the blame."

Ryan frowned and swallowed again, his eyes flickering closed and then opening a few seconds later.

"But you're also my friend, Ryan, my brother in fact, and I won't let you go to jail because of me."

Ryan's mouth hung open for a second before he painstakingly put his hands on the ground and pulled himself up, grimacing.

"Anyways, we both know that secrets and lies never work out for anyone."

Ryan laughed at that.

"Very true, Seth."

Now it was Seth's turn to back up against the wall. He pulled his knees up to his chest as the sirens got closer.

And closer. They were walls, closing in on him. Seth's eyes were shut as tight as he could close them. Suddenly, he felt claustrophobic, and he wanted to find the nearest door and bolt.

But then he opened his eyes and looked at Ryan, reaching for the towel on the ground as he wheezed and grimaced.

Ryan didn't groan in pain.

He didn't whimper like a baby. And that made Seth feel like a little shit head.

"Here, dude. I've got it."

He crawled forward, grabbed the towel, and flung it at Ryan, who grabbed it and placed it, neatly folded, on the back of his head.

"Sorry it's pink, man. I know, it's a bit minty."

Another laugh. Seth was glad he could do something right.

He looked at Theresa. She wasn't looking at him, but that was only because she was pressing down on a towel.

Seth knew he should be helping her, but he couldn't be near Eddie right now. That was something he was too scared to do.

"Listen, Seth."

Seth sat down again and took a long look at Ryan. Ryan, who was still grimacing in pain as the towel pressed harder into the gash on the back of his head.

"I wanna... I need to tell you... Thanks, man. I mean it. I was getting a little scared there."

Seth nodded. He knew that.

"Yeah, I know. I won't tell anyone, though. I'll keep your bad boy reputation intact."

Ryan didn't laugh. He gave Seth a small smile, and he took the towel away.

It wasn't pink anymore.

Ryan shrugged and dropped it. He fell onto his side and curled up, his knees at his chest as he hugged them tightly.

A knock at the door.

Seth stood up and went for it, turning the doorknob slowly to the left. He was shaking, and he held his right hand with his left to steady it. This was it.

"Hiya."

This sucked. He was going to jail. He knew it.

The officers pushed past him and forked out, a few going to the left, where Eddie and Theresa were, a few going to the right, where Ryan was.

Seth stood immobile in the center of the room.

Cops and medics swirled incessantly around him, attending to things, trying to get stretchers into the room, looking at Seth.

One of them pulled him outside, despite his protests.

"Name?"

Seth blinked and looked up, narrowing his eyes at the sun.

He didn't think the sun would be able to shine after what had just happened.

"Name?"

He hadn't noticed the cop, pen and paper in hand, standing impatiently in front of him.

He hadn't noticed Theresa sitting on a step nearby, a similar looking cop in front of her.

"Uh... Seth. Seth Cohen."

The cop nodded, made a note.

A few seconds passed before the cop looked up from his paper.

"You know any of the names of the people in there?"

Seth nodded absentmindedly, distracted by the sound of Theresa crying.

"The one on the right is Ryan Atwood. He's my... brother."

The cop frowned skeptically, but eventually he gave a nod and wrote something else on his paper.

"The other one is Eddie..."

Holy shit. Seth hadn't realized that he didn't know Eddie's last name.

He didn't know the last name of the person he stabbed. How much of a monster _was_ he?

"I... I don't know his last name."

Another nod, another scribble on his paper.

"Do you happen to know what happened here?"

Boy did he know.

"Yeah, actually. Yeah, I do."

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	3. Cut

"And who stabbed him?"

Seth swallowed and took a deep breath.

This was it.

He could easily say it was Ryan. No one would believe Ryan. He was from Chino. As far as anyone was concerned, Seth was the good one.

Not Ryan.

Three days ago, he would have said it was Ryan who did it.

Even today, if Ryan didn't look like he did right now, Seth would have said it was Ryan.

He felt so apalling for his thoughts on the matter that he decided then and there what he was going to do.

"Uh, I-- I did."

The cop looked him up and down, disbelieving.

"You just came in and stabbed him?"

Theresa jumped in to help him.

"It was self defense. I saw it, Seth saw it, Ryan saw it... Eddie would say it was self defense if he was awake..."

The cop frowned and nodded.

"Sir, could you please stand up?"

The words were kind enough, and the police officer didn't sound malicious.

Seth nodded and stood, his head still jerking up and down.

_"No..."_

Three paramedics were trying, and failing miserably, to get Ryan onto a stretcher.

The injured boy flung his arms around wildly, kicking whoever was within range.

Seth closed his eyes and turned to face the cop. He needed to do this.

"No... _I_ did it!"

Seth's eyes opened at that.

The cop raised an eyebrow, making no move to handcuff him yet.

"Don't listen to him. He's a white knight. Takes the blame for anything. Everything, really."

Eyes narrowed, the police officer looked into the room.

The three medics were trying to find a way to get Ryan onto the stretcher without causing any more damage. Words like "sedative" and "strap" flew around, but no one did anything to follow through with them.

Seth took a step into the house, but a firm hand on his chest stopped him.

"Please let me help him. I can help him."

The hand wavered.

Seth knew they knew he wasn't a danger. Precautions were precautions, though.

Inside the room, Ryan writhed and pushed someone's hesitant hands away.

He flipped over and tried to crawl away, but ended up curling up again and moaning in pain.

Seth couldn't watch anymore.

His heart fluttered furiously as Ryan squirmed out of the paramedics' grasp.

This seemed all too familiar.

He had seen this sight twice before, from completely different perspectives.

When he was eight, the first time he got his ass kicked by the water polo players to be. He tried to run away, squirming and wriggling like a fish on a line.

All his work had been for nothing.

Well, not nothing. A black eye and a few bruised ribs, along with a split lip.

The second time he had seen a sight like the one in front of him was when he was ten.

His father bought him a bunny for his birthday.

Seth liked to think that his dad chased bunnies around the field until he caught the best one.

He was so scared that Mr. Floppy wouldn't like him. Nobody else liked him. And he hadn't.

Not at first, anyways. Sandy handed him the little black bunny, cold nose twitching, and it tried to run away, kicking, squirming. Just like Seth had the first time they hurt him.

Seth ran off and slammed his door shut, silent tears slipping out of his eyes. He was right. No one liked him.

With some advice from his father and a few calming words, Seth won Mr. Floppy over.

He supposed that tactic would work with Ryan.

The police officer pushed his sunglasses down, gave Seth a meaningful look, and moved to the side.

Seth was at Ryan's side in an instant, trying to get people out of his way.

"Hey buddy..."

Ryan visibly calmed down at the sound of his friends' voice, and the wary doctors inched closer to him.

Seth gripped his friends' hand tightly and sat down next to him.

"Listen, I know you're scared--"

Ryan looked at the looming medics and shook his head.

A small action that took much more effort than Seth liked.

"I'm not scared."

Seth nodded and smiled sadly.

Of course he would say that in front of these people. He wouldn't want these people to know.

Seth realized he was being stupid.

"I know. I'm sorry. I know that you don't want to do this, and I understand that you think nothing's going to work out, but it is. I promise you that it's going to be ok. And the sooner you calm down and let these people do their jobs, the sooner it'll be ok."

Ryan frowned, swallowed, nodded. Seth patted his hand and stood up.

"Wait."

Seth was half standing, half sitting.

Ryan's eyes were closed, and the doctors were already taking advantage of that to move closer.

"I'm sorry, Seth. I'm _so_ sorry."

Seth didn't answer.

He didn't have an answer. What was done, was done. He would've done more if he could have, and if it hadn't of been for that damn pen knife, he would have kicked Eddie's ass and called the cops.

But he couldn't say that.

It wasn't even true.

If the pen knife in question wasn't there, he'd be next to Ryan right now, probably worse off than him.

"It's ok, Ryan. Don't worry about it."

And with that, he walked off, out of the room, turning back to see Ryan fully cooperating with the paramedics, whispering small sorry's to anyone he had hurt.

"Ok. I'm ready now."

He couldn't even bring his voice above a whisper.

He had never done anything illegal in his entire life. Or at least he didn't think so.

This was bad. This was _really_ bad. He didn't think his dad would be able to bail him out. He didn't think he'd want to.

The handcuffs were cold against his skin. A slight shiver ran down his back, and he bit his bottom lip to keep away tears that wanted to spill.

He looked behind him quickly, only to see that Ryan had passed out again.

That was good.

At least _he _didn't have to see his friend suffer.

Ryan was on the stretcher now. Bags filled with things Seth didn't know hanging above him, a flutter of activity around him. He imagined that the same went for Eddie. No, wait.

Eddie had already been wheeled out. When Seth was talking to Ryan. He hadn't seen him.

Seth hated the hands pressing against his sides, searching for a weapon. That was silly.

The pen knife was still in the corner of the room, covered in blood.

Seth was shaking when they led him into the car. He felt sick. Dizzy. His head was throbbing, and he felt like throwing up.

He swallowed dryly, his lip quivering.

"Listen, kid. I'm sure everything'll work out. You've got at least one witness that says it was self defense, and apparently your dad's a lawyer."

Seth said a quiet thank you from the back of the police car as the other officer shoved his friend in the arm and told him to shut up.

Nobody was supposed to talk to monsters like him.

The ride to the police station was painfully silent. Seth wished Ryan was next to him so he could tell him all about his stupid, week-long "vacation" in the middle of the ocean.

That would mean that Ryan had to go to jail too, and that wouldn't be good at all, so Seth banished the thought.

Still, the empty space beside him made him feel alone again, just like he had been all his life. Before Ryan.

If he couldn't have Ryan to talk to, Seth thought the very least he deserved was Captain Oats.

Seth choked on a sob which had lodged itself in his throat. He wasn't an adult. Not even close to it. But now he felt like he had to be one. Because of what he had done.

All he really wanted to do was have his dad give him a big hug. Not like the ones he gave him that seemed forced because of the fact that Seth didn't like hugs anymore.

He wanted the hug his dad gave him when he was seven. When they called him 'Death Breath Seth' and laughed at him, and his so-called friends looked away. They left him all alone in the middle of the playground.

And then Seth had no friends.

He wanted his dad to hug him and never let go. He wanted to cry until he had more tears. Until he was innocent again.

The police officer gave him another piteous look, and he thought about how nice it would be if he could talk to anyone, even the nice police officer.

But that would get him and the police officer in trouble, and Moses knew he'd caused enough trouble for one day.

Hell, for a year. Or a lifetime. Maybe a few lifetimes.

He felt lightheaded, and he swallowed again in a futile attempt to feel better.

He looked forward again to see the kind police officer still looking at him. His pity now looked like concern.

Why?

Seth had no idea why. Maybe this guy was just messing with him.

A whisper to the other police officer, who looked at Seth in the rear-view mirror and frowned.

_"It's probably just sweat, Tim. Don't get attached to this kid."_

Sweat? Seth furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. What were they looking at?

_"Just pull over, Steve. Let me take a look at it. Whatever it is, ok? Better to be safe than sorry."_

What? Safe over what? Did they still think he was going to do something else?

The bothered police officer, Steve, was it? He pulled over with a groan and a roll of his eyes, and Tim got out of the car.

Seth's heart was getting out of control. His head was itchy, and he hated that he couldn't scratch it.

He felt vulnerable, angry, guilty. All at once.

Tim opened the door and knelt down next to Seth. He hadn't realized he was shaking. Steve stayed in his drivers' seat, obviously annoyed by his partner's interest in Seth.

"Do you mind if I check out your neck real quick, kid?"

Seth nodded and lifted his head. He still felt dizzy, and the officer slowly pulling the zipper of his blue jacket down made him nervous.

He hadn't even noticed that he had a cut in his jacket.

"Ouch. Do you have any napkins up there, Steve?"

Napkins? Seth watched as the skewed version of Steve nodded and half-heartedly handed Tim a wad of white McDonald's napkins.

Tim pressed it on Seth's neck. Seth gasped in pain. He didn't know that there was a cut on his throat, his neck. He thought the dizziness he felt was purely psychological.

"Now how did you get this?"

Tim pulled the napkins away. Red, floppy napkins that attracted Seth's attention.

When did that happen?

He didn't remember falling on anything.

The knife. The knife that had been so close to his neck. Now he knew why he felt so faint.

"That's a pretty bad cut. You know where you got it? When you got it?"

He had already asked that, had he not? How much time had passed since he asked the question?

"I guess... I guess Eddie..."

Tim frowned.

Now Seth could feel a little trickle of blood that percolated from his neck. He was overtly aware of it, seeping down drop by drop.

"There a medic available at the station?"

Seth wondered why there would be one.

He felt sleepy. He wanted this day to end. He wanted Ryan to be ok.

He prayed for Ryan to be ok.

He wanted to apologize for being such a prick. He wanted his mom to be back from her "spa weekend" that Sandy had arranged for her, needing his tough-as-nails wife back.

The whimpering mess that awaited him when he got back from his trip, accompanied by a Coast Guard, was not his mother.

Seth heard the door of the car close and he started.

_"Everything... worry... called... father..."_

Seth made a face and leaned his head on the window, the soft movement of the car taking him into an unsettling sleep.

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Melissa, I'm sorry. I didn't think you sounded bitchy at all. :)


	4. Cell

The honeymoon is over. Now** romie** is making demands, and I must do everything in my power to fulfill them. Why? She's Canadian, and despite what you might hear, we have wicked tempers. Many warm thanks to **Maud**, who helped me out in my juvie stupidity.

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"Come on, kid."

Seth looked up to see Tim, still concerned, still pitying, looking at him.

Seth gave him-- all two of him --a silly smile and nodded, trying to stand up.

Tim and Steve each took an elbow and guided him to his feet.

The sun was too bright, and it blinded Seth for a bitter moment.

They carefully led him into the station, and the sound of drunks and junkies filled Seth's ears and caused him to shake his head to rid himself of the echoing noise.

He looked at the people sitting and standing throughout the police station again. He thought they looked old, despite the fact that only a few of them were over eighteen filled

_"This one drunk?"_

Seth opened his eyes long enough to see Tim shake his head. He pointed at Seth's neck. Seth could still feel the blood dripping down, sliding down his chest, leaving stains on his clothes that stuck to him.

The rugged looking officer with a beard and eyebrows comparable to his fathers' leant closer to Seth.

Seth pulled back a little, still unhappy about everyone getting in his face. The man pushed Seth's chin up and looked at the cut on his neck.

Seth swallowed nervously, waiting for the search to be over.

"The doctor's with Smith right now. I'll get Jenny to page him."

Tim nodded appreciatively and sat Seth down in the most uncomfortable chair he'd ever seen. Seriously? He thought they put some sort of device in it that made people feel completely awkward, just for kicks.

"You called his dad yet?"

A nod from the bothered secretary. She didn't seem to notice Seth's presence, and if she did, she didn't care.

Tim walked over to Seth and sat down.

He didn't seem to care abou the uncomfortable chair.

"As soon as you get patched up, we'll put you in one of the empty cells."

Seth shivered and let out a little whimper at the last word.

His reaction didn't go unnoticed by Tim, who tilted his head and smiled sadly.

"You hungry? Thirsty?"

Seth shook his head and shivered again.

He didn't belong here. At least, he didn't think so. Across the room, a girl in the shortest skirt Seth had ever seen and fishnet stockings scanned the room and glowered as she was led into the station by an antipathetic police officer.

In another corner, a boy swore and cursed anyone within a five foot radius.

Sitting close to the cursing boy, but definitely not next to him, was a shaggy haired boy with his head bowed. He shrunk into the squeaky chair, looking all of twelve.

Seth thought he looked like Ryan.

"Where's my brother?"

Tim looked sympathetic.

That was never a good sign. Especially not when Ryan looked the way he did when Seth left in the back of the police car.

"I-- I don't know."

Seth frowned. He hadn't heard a police officer stutter like that here. Show weakness.

He thought they had no weaknesses.

"I'll check for you, kid."

The second Tim left, Seth let out a shaky breath and looked around. No one seemed to notice him. He was definitely not going to cry.

Even though he felt like it.

In a way, he wanted to be taken into the cell, so that he could do what he wanted. Not that he thought there would be much freedom in a cell, but at least he would be able to cry if he felt the need to.

And he definitely felt the need to.

Tim returned a few seconds later and sat down again.

"Your friend Ryan Atwood, he's in Chino Hills Medical Center. Waiting for a parent to fill in papers."

Seth bit his lip and suppressed a wave of tears.

His dad was coming to see him.

Not Ryan.

Ryan was all alone in a dingy hospital room, getting poked and prodded.

At least Seth thought it was dingy. This was Chino, after all.

The doctor opened the door with a bag full of medical equipment. Seth felt scared, and he didn't know why.

Doc didn't say anything, just took Tim's spot on the chair next to Seth and moved him to the side.

Seth winced when he applied the gauze and wrapped it tight. The pulsing pain from before turned into a sheet of dull ache, and it didn't sting too much. Not as much as it did in the car.

"Ok. We've got a cell in the back. It's the last one at the end of the corridor."

Seth swallowed hard and whimpered when Steve pulled him up roughly by the elbow and pushed him forward.

His handcuffs were removed and they asked him to place everything inside all his pockets and anything he had on him on the table. He did.

Steve then told him to keep his hands behind his back as he led him into the corridor full of cells.

It wasn't like he imagined a hallway full of jail cells to be at all. No one threw makeshift knives at him as he walked past. No one whistled or jeered.

They all looked so tired. So unhappy. A few of them, the really drunk ones, stoned ones, high ones, they talked to themselves and yelled at the Steve, but that was it.

Cobwebs in the corner, dripping water coming from a crack in the wall? There was none of that.

The fluorescent lighting was dimmed down and gave everyone a sickly pale color. Seth didn't bring himself to think that maybe they actually were that anemic color, and the lights only served to blanch them further.

The door slid open and Seth was pushed inside. Steve closed the door and left.

This cell smelled bad. Rancid. And the smells penetrated his nose and made him want to gag.

Seth sat in the corner of the small cell and blocked out all the noises.

He wasn't going to cry here.

He wasn't going to cry here because everyone might go all Oz on his ass. Literally.

He would save his tears for when he was out of here, and talking to his dad about what happened.

That would be when he'd cry.

He touched the gauze on his neck and started shaking. He pulled his knees up to his chest, looking for comfort, and wrapped his arms around his knees.

It always brought him comfort before. When he'd rest his head on his shaky knees and make himself small. It always worked.

It didn't work anymore.

He wasn't a child anymore, so of course his old manner of calming himself down wouldn't work anymore.

He should have known better.

_"He's just a kid... Don't hurt him."_

A shudder joined in Seth's shaking, and he thought how ironic it was that being called that had been what caused him to do what he did. Turn into an adult.

His hand drew itself to his neck. He could still feel exactly where the cut was. From the pulsing it did, he knew where it started. Where it ended.

He hadn't thought about how much of this exactly was his fault before.

To him, he had ripped the knife out of Eddie's calloused hands and stabbed him with it.

In his mind, he could see himself smirking as the blade tore through cloth and flesh.

That obviously wasn't the case, but Seth couldn't get the image of his face twisting in sadistic pleasure at the sight of a wounded man.

The cut on his neck seemed to prove otherwise, seeing as it must have been an occurrence of Eddie's hand pushing down on the blade.

Pushing down and making contact with his neck, slicing the skin and thinking nothing of it.

Seth dismissed the thoughts that pegged Eddie as a worse person than he already thought of him as.

He had hurt his best friend. Only friend.

But he didn't deserve to be stabbed for that.

He deserved to go to jail and rot there, like Seth was going to, but he didn't deserve to have metal tear through his skin.

Seth shuddered again.

As much as he hated himself right now, Seth knew he didn't deserve to be stabbed, either.

And yet, Eddie had tried to do just that.

_"I didn't smoke that... I was keeping it for my friend..."_

Seth jumped as someone laughed. A deep, manic laugh that shook him to his very core.

He wished that he had a blanket so that he could drown out the sounds of everyone's voice by placing it over his head.

He wanted someone to hug him. He wanted Summer to hug him.

She always had this way of calming him. Of making him feel better.

He had called her the day after he came back.

Told her that she was the reason he came back. That he loved her. That he had since he was little.

She didn't say anything, but her quiet sobs showed that he had broken her heart enough.

And she hung up on him, and his heart broke a little too.

She wouldn't want him now. She would have even more reason to hate him.

Attacker. Stabber. Completely useless.

That was him.

He wanted to sleep. To be able to close his eyes and drift off like he had in the back of the police car would be a kind gift from Moses. Or Jesus. Or whoever was in charge.

But he didn't deserve that. And he didn't get it.

"Cohen. Your dad's here."

Seth jumped and shrunk further into the corner. His dad.

Sandy would be so disappointed in him. He'd be so angry. He wouldn't want to help him out.

He didn't want to know what his dad had to say, only because it would drag him further into a pit of despair.

Maybe it wouldn't.

Maybe his dad would understand.

Seth doubted that. But he'd just have to find out.

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	5. Dad

Once again, thank you for all the feedback, and **muchtvs**, you're back! Yay! And you reviewed every single update I did in one night! Double yay! Well, onwards. Oh! I almost forgot, I won't be here from the 12th of July to the 18th, so this might just be the last update for a while, so romie can't threaten me, because I shan't be here. Ew. I just said shan't.

**Disclaimer:** Because lately I've been forgetting it. I don't own the O.C. or any of the characters except the cops.

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Seth was led into a room with a one-sided mirror.

He was still shaking, and he thought that maybe this time it was because he was cold, seeing as there was definitely no heat in this place.

He zipped up his sweater and rubbed his hands against his arms.

They sat him down in a chair. He drummed his fingers on the table in front of him and stared at the chair on the other side of it.

The door buzzed open and his father entered, completely frazzled. Hair going in every direction, eyebrows wilder than ever, suit in complete disarray.

"Dad..."

Seth stood from his chair, not caring if he got in trouble. He stumbled forward to hug his father, surprised when he returned the hug.

Hands ran through his curly hair and he laid his head on Sandy's shoulder.

"Dad..."

His father hugged him tighter.

Seth wanted to cry so badly that nothing came out. He just shook silently as his father tried to calm him, make him feel better.

"It's ok, Seth... Everything's gonna be ok..."

Seth lost all control he had gained during the past few hours at Sandy's words. Everything wasn't going to be ok.

He had stabbed someone. Things would never be ok.

He'd always see the blade moving away from his neck and into Eddie.

Seth didn't quite remember where he stabbed Eddie.

He always found it funny how everyone in the movies always said things moved too fast when things like this happened.

He thought at first that it had all happened quicker than he wanted it to, but now there it was, replaying in his mind, in super slow motion.

Like the replays on the old basketball games Ryan used to make him watch. ESPN Classics.

Seth hated them, but it was Seth/Ryan time, and any time he could spend with his friend, he would.

He would have given anything to talk to Ryan right now.

"Sit down, Seth. It's alright."

Seth obeyed the simple command, sitting across from his father, looking at him run his hands through his hair.

"I don't know much about what happened. Just that you-- that you stabbed someone."

Seth opened his mouth to add in self defense.

But he stopped himself. No one would believe him. Anyways, he'd rather have his father see him as a cold blooded killer than a coward who couldn't help his friend.

Except he hoped he wasn't a killer. He wasn't sure if Eddie was dead.

His hand quivered at the thought of Eddie being dead. No. He wouldn't be able to handle that.

"I know it was in self-defense. Officer Munroe already told me he thinks so and that you've already got a witness that agrees."

Seth nodded.

Wait. Who was Officer Munroe?

"Officer Munroe?"

Sandy nodded half-heartedly and opened a file which he brought in with him.

"Tim Munroe. He's the police officer who brought you in."

Seth nodded, understanding.

Tim was cool. He got his cut bandaged. Seth rubbed at his neck subconsciously.

"He was nice."

Sandy nodded, not really paying attention.

"You're going to have to tell me everything you can, Seth. _Everything_. You can take as long as you like."

Seth frowned.

He knew full well that if he wanted to tell the whole story, it would take him quite a while. He suspected breakdowns would be inevitable.

_Everything._

"What about visitation limits? I'm sure they're going to have to take me to..."

Why couldn't he finish any sentences with the word juvie in them?

It pissed him off to no end, and it would probably be a problem in trying to explain what happened.

Or what was going to happen.

"Well, seeing as I'm your father, and your lawyer, I have some leeway."

Seth nodded. His dad didn't seem angry, but he might just be hiding it.

"Have you talked to Ryan?"

His father kept his eyes on Seth's file. It was thin, and Seth hoped it would never be as full as Ryan's.

Sandy shook his head.

"At all? I mean, is he ok?"

Sandy looked up and frowned.

"I'm going to tell him eventually, Seth. I don't think he needs to hear about this right now."

Seth nodded. He understood. Or wait, no, he didn't.

"What? He already knows."

Sandy gave a curt burst of laughter and rubbed at his face with his palms, successfully taming his eyebrows.

"Come on, Seth. I'm sure the gossip mill doesn't work _that_ fast."

Seth frowned again. His dad was in some serious denial.

He watched as Sandy read through all the information in Seth's file. He had no idea why he was doing that. He should have been looking at the police report.

"Dad. He was there. And in fact, you should be with _him_ right now, not me."

Sandy's eyes flew up in the direction of where Seth was.

"What?"

Seth opened his eyes, his mouth.

Sandy didn't know. Nobody told him.

So now Ryan was in a hospital, getting poked and prodded. Alone.

Getting asked where his family was. Alone.

Or passed out. Alone.

"Ryan was there, dad. He was-- he was the reason I stabbed Eddie."

He hated how that came out.

Now his dad was going to blame Ryan for something that was completely and entirely Seth's fault.

"I mean, Eddie was the reason I stabbed Eddie, but Ryan was there. Well, of course he was there, I mean-- it's his house. Or it was his house. I don't know if he's going to--"

Sandy frowned. Looked from left to right, then back at Seth. Swallowed hard.

"Ryan was there?"

Seth nodded. He hated being the one to tell this to his dad.

He didn't even understand why his dad didn't know.

I mean, Sandy was legally responsible for Ryan.

"I thought maybe you ran into someone when you were on your way to Chino and they... Where is Ryan now? Is he-- Is he in jail too?"

Seth looked down at the table.

He couldn't do this. Somebody else should've done this. Not him. Not now.

"No, dad. He isn't."

He hoped his dad would get the picture. Ryan wasn't in jail, but he needed help.

He wished his dad would clue in.

"But... why would he be there when you stabbed..."

Seth sighed in frustration. If Sandy made him say, he'd break.

He was fragile.

"Dad, didn't someone call you?"

Seth yelped the end of his sentence and felt his voice tremble.

Sandy searched his pockets, seemed to remember they took his items before he entered, smacked his head angrily.

Seth jumped.

"Shit. I left my cell phone at home. I just ran out of the house when they told me about you."

Seth felt another weight of guilt. It was his fault Sandy didn't know about Ryan.

Just like everything was his fault.

He was about to cry. He knew it.

He couldn't take any more of this. He just couldn't. He wanted to go home and sleep forever.

"Dad. Eddie-- He was-- He was there when I went to visit Ryan, and he was..."

Seth shivered.

Sandy took his hand. He was the parent. He knew how to deal with this.

But the look of despair on his father's face seemed to prove differently.

"He was hurting him, trying to kill him with this knife, and when I tried to help Ryan... then he attacked me-- I didn't know what to do, and I-- I saw him trying to... and... well, he tried to..."

He couldn't say stab or he'd finally snap.

He unzipped his jacket and showed his dad so he wouldn't have to say it.

For once in his life, he couldn't speak. He couldn't utter a single word.

Well, it wasn't really the first time, but it felt like it.

Like his mouth was glued shut to prevent him from bursting into tears.

"Oh my god, Seth. Oh my god."

Seth hadn't realized that Sandy was on the verge of a breakdown as well.

Unfortunately, like hair issues and ridiculous talking skills, Seth noticed that Sandy had the same skill at getting the wrong impression of things sometimes.

At least he thought Sandy was getting the wrong impression.

He couldn't possibly think Seth was the victim here.

He was the stabber, not the stabbee.

Or, actually, he was the stabbee, but not to the same extent as Eddie was the stabbee.

This was confusing.

He grabbed Seth in a crushing bear hug, and instead of Seth being the one breaking down, it was his father.

"I shouldn't have let you go... I'm a terrible father..."

There was that paralyzing self doubt acting up. It was a Cohen tradition.

Sandy wouldn't let go, and it was making Seth dizzier than he already was.

He feebly pushed his dad away, telling him that everything was ok.

Sandy cried, making Seth wonder where his calm and collected father was.

He slumped in his chair and let Sandy cry.

He seemed to be comforting everyone today. He hated it.

He hated being the adult.

He didn't want to be. He thought that being an adult could wait until he actually was one.

Now he knew how Ryan felt his entire life, and it made him sink deep into guilt.

More guilt than he already felt.

"I am never letting you out of my sight ever again, you hear me Seth?"

Seth nodded on his father's shoulder, the weight of the words taking full effect.

Sandy wasn't mad. He was guilty, sad, confused. But angry? No.

Maybe at Eddie, but that didn't make sense. Eddie was the one who got stabbed.

"Your mother is going to kill me. I deserve it too."

Seth hadn't thought about his mother in a few hours.

He missed her.

Missed having her to hug him and cuddle him, even though he said he hated it.

He needed her right now.

"Dad. Dad!"

Sandy finally pulled out of the bear hug, still looking at his pale son.

"Ryan's in the hospital, dad. You need to be with _him_. Not me."

Sandy shook slightly but calmed himself after a few seconds.

He nodded and sat back down in his chair, resting his head on the table momentarily.

He looked up again, fear in his eyes.

"Is he ok? Do you know if he's ok?"

Seth shook his head.

Tears sprung into his eyes, and he finally lost control.

He didn't know anything anymore. Not who he was, or where he was, or why he was even here.

And his father was beside him again in an instant.

Seth knew he had been wrong to judge his father.

Anger? There was none of that. And now he understood what his father meant when he said unconditional love.

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	6. Two

This chapter was definitely a toughie. I decided to change it up (for this chapter) and make it from Ryan's perspective instead of Seth's because it would be impossible for it to be from Seth's perspective unless Seth was somehow dreaming about Ryan in the hospital and his dreams were perfectly accurate. Which is, I think, impossible.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the O.C., nor do I own any of the characters. What I do own is a Captain Oats shirt and a "You know what I like about rich kids? BAM! Nothing." shirt. So take that, Josh.

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Nothing was right here.

Ryan couldn't move, he couldn't think, and he couldn't really breathe.

The annoying nurses and doctors kept telling him everything was gonna be alright and that they were almost there.

Where? The fucking dilapidated Chino Hills Medical Center, where the wallpaper fell down and the doctors didn't have the right training?

Where they'd mess up the amount of anesthetic they gave you and you'd wake up a day late?

Total piece of crap hospital.

Ryan couldn't believe that his brain was functioning enough for him to form thoughts. Thoughts in full sentences, for that matter.

Why did this happen again? Wasn't there a knife involved? Wasn't there an Eddie involved? A Seth involved?

He didn't quite know, but something told him it wasn't very good.

Anything involving Eddie, Seth, and a knife couldn't possibly be good.

The hissing oxygen mask over his face was tickling him, being such a pain in the ass.

It hurt too much to move, and he knew from experience that it probably wouldn't be a good idea.

Sooner than he thought, they were at the hospital. It never failed to amaze him how fast ambulances got to their destinations.

It was probably the fact that he was drifting in and out of consciousness, but it seemed like quite a short trip.

When was the first time he rode in an ambulance?

He couldn't remember.

Maybe he was six. Or eight.

Something like that.

_"Ryan... Ryan..."_

It was for a concussion. Something about little boys' heads colliding with doorknobs being able to give you a concussion.

That must have been it.

After that it was... it was when his dad got arrested and he picked a fight with a big, tough guy at school.

Obviously, he lost.

_"Ryan... Ryan..."_

There were some other times too.

He couldn't remember those times though. Not now.

Not with the thoughts swimming and splashing busily in his head.

Eddie. Knife. Seth.

_"Ryan... Ryan..."_

He wished someone would tell whoever it was that was saying that to shut the hell up.

He would have said it himself, but his breathing prevented it. That, and the fact that he felt... How had Seth described that crappy romantic comedy he and Ryan had seen?

Or rather, been forced to see because of Summer and Marissa?

Ah.

_"Good... if you think total crap is good."_

What the hell was the point of retaining useless information like that, when he couldn't remember why he was on a stupid stretcher with a stupid, noisy mask over his face and a stupid loser telling him everything was going to be alright?

Or wait. He did remember.

Eddie with a knife. Seth with a knife. Ryan, gripping Eddie's arms weakly.

Squirming.

Seth. With a knife. That didn't sound right.

Or did it? He wasn't sure.

This was ridiculous.

_"Ryan... 2 mg... morphine..."_

Ooh. Morphine. He liked morphine.

"Eddie?"

His voice was more of a raspy gasp than an actual word.

Someone seemed to hear him, because they patronizingly answered him, leaning in, talking loudly.

"Eddie's in ICU."

Ow. What the hell was the point in yelling?

He really hated this hospital.

Soon enough, the morphine kicked in and helped take the rough corners off of the pain.

It felt nice. Well, not nice, but better than tormenting pain.

What was wrong with him? When had he turned into Seth?

He closed his eyes as the bright lights of the hospital made him nauseous, and was mildly surprised when they wouldn't open anymore.

He drifted off.

When he woke up, however much time later, he was lying down already.

He found that everything had happened surprisingly fast.

"Ah. Nice to see you joined us in the living world. How are you feeling?"

Ryan didn't answer that. He didn't like this guy already. He was annoying and loud and tried too hard to be witty.

"Eddie?"

The doctor frowned, then raised his eyebrows and sighed in understanding.

"Eddie is in recovery. You've been out for quite a while now."

Out. Out as in unconscious. They must have called the Cohens if he was that bad off.

"Seth?"

He would have said more, but talking hurt and he didn't want to waste energy on this guy.

Dr. Fuckwit gave him a pitying smile and looked at his clipboard.

"I'm sure an officer will be in to tell you some more. I'm just here to take care of you and make sure you're alright."

Ryan raised a critical eyebrow, obviously disbelieving of the doctor.

His round spectacles and brown eyes just screamed deceit.

Or maybe that was Ryan's paranoia.

He wasn't sure.

What he was sure of, however, was that the Cohens should be here.

"What about... what about the Cohens?"

He swallowed through the pain, inhaled then exhaled through it.

Another pitying smile.

Another glare and another sweep of pain.

"I'm sorry. We've tried to reach them, but we only got the answering machine. We also tried Mr. Cohen's cell phone, but it wasn't available. Sorry."

Sorry. Yeah, sorry. That was always it.

Sorry.

Fuck sorry. Sorry didn't fix anything. It only made things worse. Some things just didn't need sorry.

What's his name probably wasn't even sorry. Just a job to him. Nothing important.

A hand was placed on his shoulder. Ryan glared at it.

"Get some rest, kid."

Rest.

He couldn't rest. Not with the throbbing pain that radiated from every inch of his soul. From his battered body.

Not with the looming thoughts that pestered his mind.

Eddie. Knife. Seth.

Fuck rest. That was just what he'd...

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In a way, the drive to juvenile hall was educational.

Now Seth knew how Ryan felt. It was like somehow Ryan was channeling Chino strength through Seth.

When he felt acid tears form in his eyes, they were blinked back, replaced with a grim frown that to him seemed to reek of maturity.

Maturity and evil.

Maturity for the fact that he wasn't crying like a three year old who had been denied an ice scream, frowning like an adult instead. An adult who had stabbed a man.

Evil for the fact that he wasn't weeping for forgiveness for the cruel act of hatred that he had committed.

When his head hurt or his face stung or his neck started throbbing a little, he reminded himself of Ryan and his incredible ability to deal with pain.

He'd remember him telling him to leave. To get out and leave him to get his ass kicked.

Leave him to get killed.

The incredible strength that his friend had somehow gave him strength, and he made it through the car ride, made it through the police officers shoving him out of the car.

Didn't protest as they led him through the doors.

He thought the officers were so pushy they would have shoved his father out of the room when he was talking to him.

They didn't.

Sandy didn't want to go, he told them he was his lawyer. His father. He tried everything.

No. Seth had to go. Seth had to go deal with the consequences of his actions.

He almost cried when they searched him. He thought about how Ryan must have felt, cold, alone, miserable.

And he had gone through it twice.

He wondered how Ryan felt now, and instead of feeling sorry and worrying about how hurt his friend was, he took comfort in the fact that he could do this.

Ryan could do this. Ryan _did_ do this. So could Seth.

He knew that Ryan was going to be ok, because Seth made Sandy promise that he'd rush to Chino Hills Medical Center as soon as he left.

That he'd call Kirsten out of her spa weekend and make her come down to the hospital and check on him.

So he wouldn't be poked and prodded in a hospital.

Alone.

He knew that Ryan was going to be ok, so he could do this.

He could put on the white shirt, underwear, socks, shoes. Blue jumpsuit.

He thought about how much better Ryan looked in the jumpsuit than he did. It was loose, and it smelled tainted.

Like evil.

Like maturity.

He almost smiled as he looked at his blue clad arms. This was different.

This was terrible, but it would get better. It had to get better.

He promised Ryan it would be better, and he would do anything in his power to keep his promise to Ryan.

Ryan was his brother, and brothers protected each other. Kept their promises.

Seth would keep his promise.

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So, to those who would like to know, camp was great. It was fabulous. I learned how to surf, met a boy, made some friends, got tanned, skim-boarded, swam in the ocean, and had fun in general. So please review if you feel the need to. I would really appreciate it.


	7. Philip

Here it is. Chapter 7. **Romie**, I can't date until I'm 35? Wow, you're worse than my dad. And that's surprising.

Ok, so after reading the Fan-fiction discussion thread on TWoP, I know that some of you might use this fic to point out glaring mistakes, but I feel I must defend myself that I wrote it like this for an actual reason. I'm not just forgetting to put "ands" and things. It's supposed to be abrupt. What's that? No one cares? Oh well, I just felt the need to defend myself. I'll go to my corner now.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

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Seth was led into his cell by a fat guard with short, black hair and brown eyes.

The bars slid closed with a loud pang, and Seth started, jumped forward a step.

After his heart settled down, he took a few slow steps towards the bunk beds, paying careful attention to the soft thudding sound his Safe-T shoes made when he stepped on the ground.

He climbed up the steps, faltered, and fell flat on his back onto the cold floor. A sharp jab of pain came from the battered area.

"Ouch."

He figured his loud declaration went unheard and started up the rickety metal ladder once more.

"Get on the bottom bed, fuckhead."

Seth ignored the fact that the big, muscular man just rhymed as the man, no, boy, thought Seth, looked at him for a few seconds before shoving him hard to the ground.

Seth's breathing started coming in shorter intervals, and he felt his heart beat quickly in his chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Oh no. This was not good. He was definitely getting nervous.

When Seth got nervous, he talked. And when he talked, he said silly, stupid things.

As Ryan could, and would testify, after properly identifying Seth's body.

"I just think it would be better for you to sleep on the bottom bunk. Because, you know, there's less chance of the top bunk crashing down. I don't know about you, but I have the biggest fear of confined spaces, and I think that two beds pressed together, and me in the middle, you know? A Seth Cohen sandwich? Wouldn't be that much fun."

An angry glare from the tight-jawed boy as Seth wondered why he was the way he was.

Ryan would have nodded and gone to bed on the damn bottom bunk. Why couldn't his father have forgotten to teach him how to talk? Would that have been so hard?

Thump. Thump thump. Thump.

"Not that I'm suggesting in any way that you're overweight or fat or anything like that. I mean, you're a nice looking-- my name's Seth."

Seth gave a small, nervous wave as the boy glared, completely motionless.

"Wh-- what's your name?"

Silence. Seth nodded a few times and looked up.

"You know what? Never mind. Forget I said anything. I'm going to go to sleep. Sleep is very important."

The boy grunted from above, and Seth took it as a sign to get to bed.

But see, he couldn't really sleep, and he thought that maybe deep down, this guy was cool and he'd end up being his friend and he'd protect him from big, hulking bullies like Ryan always did.

"So... how long have you been here?"

Seth was confronted with more silence. He pulled the thin covers over his chin, and they rested lightly on the bridge of his nose.

"What are you --uh-- in for?"

More silence.

Great. A juvenile hall filled with Ryan Atwoods, minus his redeeming qualities.

Seth thought he would attempt conversation one last time.

"So what _is_ your name?"

This time, there was squeaking from the mattress above Seth, before a skewed version of the boy's head appeared over the top bed.

"Listen, fag. I don't talk to shit like you. So this is the last time I answer any of your questions. My name is Philip. Now shut the fuck up before I find you something fun to do."

For a second, Seth thought about telling Philip that it wasn't the last time he answered one of his questions, but the first time, but the thought of what the bulky, angry boy could do shut him up.

Seth opened his eyes wide at the realization.

His first night in juvie and he had already been made someone's bitch. Unofficially, of course.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Seth looked at the food that was on the plate in front of him.

It didn't look that bad, but it didn't look so great either.

He tasted it.

It definitely wasn't all that terrible. It certainly wasn't mushroom leek crescent, nor crab and brie phyllo, but it wasn't bad.

He guessed what was giving it the bad aftertaste was the thought that he was definitely going to die here.

He thought that at first he might have been acting melodramatic, but now he knew that it was probably true.

See, the thing was, the fact that he couldn't sleep at all on the stupid, hard bed added to the fact that his nightmares kept him up most of the night reminded him of how hungry he was.

The whole night, he must have gotten about 30 minutes of sleep.

He'd fall asleep for two minutes, have one of his godforsaken dreams, wake up gasping and clutching his blanket, and be told to shut up by his new friend.

Seth thought that Philip didn't sleep, that maybe he kept one eye open the whole night.

But that didn't matter right now.

The sudden memory of what had happened only moments before struck Seth like a quick punch to the stomach.

Suddenly, he couldn't breathe.

Yeah, he was definitely going to die here.

His name was Marcus Finley.

Seventeen and in juvie for killing his father and an old friend of the family. His dad and the old friend had been drunk and his dad started beating on Marcus's mom while the friend laughed.

Two bullets, an ambulance, and a police car later, Marcus was here.

He would be there for about a year longer before being sent to a real jail. He was built like a boxer, had lived a hard life, didn't like 'disrespectful' people.

Of course, Seth hadn't known any of that information when he budged in front of the boy, no, man, in the lineup for food.

"What the fuck?"

That was when Seth made the big mistake of opening his big, fat mouth.

"Sorry dude, but I haven't eaten in like, a day and a half and I'm starving."

He vaguely remembered rubbing his hand over his belly to illustrate his point.

Didn't really notice the way Marcus's jaw tightened and his hands turned to fists.

Well, he sort of noticed, but he was too busy getting food on his plate to care. It was only when he heard the whispers going around that he was a dead man a few minutes later that he actually realized what he had done.

Which brought him back to the situation at hand.

He was sitting, eating the food with the bad aftertaste, listening to people say he was going to die, going to get his ass kicked.

Now he was more than a little scared.

But Marcus wasn't in Seth's cell, so it didn't matter, anyway.

Seth could be so naive sometimes.

---------------------------------------------------------------

"We have to run?"

This was not what he expected.

He thought juvie was all brooding and silence in your cell. He didn't know it involved running, although he guessed that was why everyone was so bulky compared to his lean, bony frame.

Everyone else looked like animals. Like they were just waiting for the opportunity for fresh air, for physical activity they longed for.

They were running on the spot as it was.

"Shut up."

And then they ran around in circles.

Seth felt like a dog. He hated this place and everything about it, and he couldn't help but wonder how Ryan had ever been able to deal with it.

By the time it was over, he felt like he was going to pass out.

He was tired. He was hungry. He was hurt.

His neck was a pain in the, well, neck. His face ached where Eddie had punched him.

He was scared to look around in case he spotted Marcus, who wanted his head on a platter, apparently.

As they came in to go back to their cells, Seth spotted Philip, almost waved, decided against it.

No, something told him that Philip wouldn't like Seth associated with him.

Seth couldn't hear what was being said, but he could have sworn he heard his name. He didn't know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe it was a good thing. Maybe they'd accept him into their group and he'd be protected, because they looked pretty muscular.

Philip glared at Seth and nodded to one of the people he was talking to.

Or maybe not.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Seth couldn't sleep that night either.

At all.

Someone in the cell next to him whispered that it was ten already.

Philip was tossing and turning on the bed above Seth, but that wasn't what was keeping him awake.

It was the thought that maybe he wouldn't be able to see Ryan ever again.

Maybe there had been some complication, maybe he was dead, maybe Seth would have to stay in juvie forever.

He tried to calm himself down.

Seth watched Philip slowly climb down the ladder and reached for something under the mattress, put it in his jumpsuit.

"What's up?"

Seth whispered, looking up at the boy.

Philip stood next to the bed where Seth lay.

"Philip, buddy, can I help you?"

Seth was becoming very aware of the looming figure hovering around him.

Philip gripped Seth's wrists together and pulled him off the bed.

"Hey!"

The next second passed by surprisingly slowly. Philip pushed Seth against the wall, held his wrists tightly with one hand, covered his mouth with the other.

"You know a Marcus Finley?"

Seth gasped as Philip pressed himself against him. The weight against his chest and stomach was without question the most uncomfortable thing he had ever felt.

Seth shook his head.

"Marcus Finley. You budged in front of him today. You disrespected him..."

At the word 'disrespected', Philip put even more pressure on Seth's chest, and Seth was glad that Philip was covering his mouth or he would have heard him whimper.

Seth heard footsteps. Philip ignored them.

"You're supposed to pay a price for that, Seth."

His name, said with hatred and contempt that Seth didn't know could exist in a boy that was no doubt his age.

Seth closed his eyes and tried hard to shrink into the wall.

Philip took his hand off of Seth's mouth.

"Don't try and scream for help. It'll only make it worse."

Seth gulped. He hated that word. 'Gulped'. It sounded like something Bugs Bunny would do if he got caught by the hunter.

Seth shuddered.

He looked at his wrists, sore and clasped together by Philip's beefy hand.

"Please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

Without warning, Philip backhanded Seth across the face.

Seth had no idea how Philip did that so quietly, but it shut him up quickly enough.

Philip held Seth's neck against the wall. Seth tried to dislodge the lump in his throat so he could say something.

"I don't want to do this. I hate doing this. But I have to."

Seth thought he felt like crying. Aside from yesterday when he saw Ryan get his ass kicked and stabbed a man in god knows where, this might just be the worst moment of his life.

He was shaking uncontrollably by the time Philip looked around and pulled the plastic knife out of his jumpsuit.

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

This was "I-just-called-Magneto-a-dick" bad. No, this was worse.

He could run from Magneto. Sort of. He couldn't run when he was pinned to the corner of a ten by ten cell.

Philip's tight grip on his neck was beginning to make him feel dizzy, and the throb that came from the wound there reminded him of his heart beat.

No, his heart was beating much faster than that.

Philip unbuttoned some of Seth's jumpsuit. He pulled the white shirt down a little.

Seth let out a choked sob.

For some reason, Philip's hold loosened.

"Please. Please don't. Please."

Seth hated that he was begging. He hated that there was another knife in the first place.

Knives weren't really his forte.

Anyways, nothing that started with a knife ended well. Ever. In his experience, anyways.

"I have a boat I can give you. I have, I have money. Please..."

Philip didn't seem to care about boats and money. Seth wondered why.

"No thanks."

He muttered the words quietly, glancing around outside the cell to check that they weren't being watched.

"Why not?"

Seth's voice had gone up a level in pitch. He was starting to sound like Marissa.

For some reason, that didn't matter to him right now.

"I owe someone a favor, and in here, favors are worth more than money."

Seth was cold.

He didn't know why, but he was cold.

He'd never wanted his mother more. When-- if he got home, he would hug her for so long that she'd wonder who he was.

"Please don't kill me. Please don't kill me. Please don't kill me."

Seth was repeating the words with his eyes closed so tight that he was seeing thin white lines, praying to every single god he had ever heard of to take mercy on him.

He was going to get stabbed. He knew it.

He deserved it too.

Karma was a real bitch.

"I'm not gonna kill you, I'm just gonna cut you."

Seth groaned. That was _so_ much better.

Philip's hand moved from Seth's neck to his shirt again, and he fumbled with the knife in one hand and switched it to the other.

Seth didn't see the knife as it swiped his skin and ripped it back.

His eyes were closed too tightly for him to see anything.

A hand was over his mouth the next second to cover up his muffled scream.

Philip abruptly moved back. Seth dropped to his knees and put his hand on his chest.

When he looked at it, he saw blood creeping through the cracks between his fingers.

"I let you off easy."

Seth glanced up to see Philip looking around, getting a napkin from his jumpsuit, handing it to Seth.

Seth's attention was immediately drawn to his hand, shock twisting in his stomach at the blood.

"Oh god."

Now he felt like throwing up. The napkin soaked up some of the blood, but it was soon damp with the oozing liquid.

He blinked twice, trying unsuccessfully to clear his vision.

It didn't hurt that much, but it still hurt. He needed to lie down. He needed to close his eyes.

So that was exactly what he did.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Sorry about the wait. The next chapter will definitely be up sooner than this one.


	8. Ice

Yeah. Sure, you may think I'm mean for cutting Seth, but you guys are all mean to Ryan! I mean, you make him run away, get hit, get beaten to a bloody pulp, make his girlfriend (Theresa, not Marissa) die, make Sandy hit him, make him find out about a dad he didn't know he had, make him get shot THREE times! I mean, come on. Seth deserves a little pain. Also, this follows the same time line as the last chapter, so it's like reliving the past. Yay!

In other news, I think I may have gone insane.

Thank you to **Sister Rose**, who gave **muchtvs** the idea of using x to replace the dashes, which I have now gacked.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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_"Shouldn't he be awake already?"_

The voice sounded echoed in his mind.

There were eight of Sandy in his head, saying the same thing over and over and over again.

Or at least, he assumed it was Sandy.

It sounded like Sandy, anyways.

_"Sir, you have to understand..."_

Now there was another voice bumping around his head.

This was getting confusing.

_"No. I've been here for the past three hours and he hasn't so much as moved. Is there something seriously wrong with him? Is there something you're not telling me?"_

This was getting ridiculous.

The voices in his head were becoming incessant, overlapping each other like waves on the shore.

_"Sir, Mr. Atwood has undergone a very serious trauma. His body needs to rest. Relax. There's nothing wrong with him not waking up. He tired himself out the last time he woke up."_

A deep intake of breath from someone now.

Ryan wasn't processing much of this.

Not very well, anyways.

Sandy was here, he thought. Or it seemed like it. Unless this was a dream.

In which case, Sandy wasn't here. And he was still alone.

Which was fine.

_"Would you like a glass of water, sir?"_

If there was a response, Ryan missed it, but that was ok.

A door closed. Someone sat down somewhere and the seat squished.

_"Hey kid."_

Yeah, this was definitely not a dream.

Usually Ryan's dreams had actual visuals to go along with the voices.

Anyways, Sandy always called him "kid".

It was only two letters away from "kiddo", but it made all the difference.

Not that that was important or anything, but still. Ryan decided long ago that "kid" was a much better nickname than "kiddo".

For absolutely no other reason than that of it coming from Sandy.

A light tingling sensation in his hand when Sandy took it.

Or Ryan assumed it was Sandy, anyways.

_"Listen, I can't stay..."_

Of course he couldn't. No one could. No one did.

_"I can't stay, but I'm gonna. Until you wake up. Because I don't believe that you're ok and I won't until you tell me so..."_

The words faded and crossed over each other in different volumes, like when Seth would play with the volume knob on Ryan's stereo to make it sound like the singers were all messed up.

_"You know, Seth's worried about you, Ryan. He told me so in, uh..."_

Sandy coughed.

Ryan felt the need to move, to do something, but he really couldn't.

The darkness around him was so much easier to bear than actually doing something.

But Seth was somewhere, obviously not here.

Sandy needed to be somewhere other than here.

This was really confusing.

He became very aware of his eyelids, that fluttered and let in a small line of light.

Sandy held onto his hand tighter, and Ryan frowned at the pain. Or at least he thought he frowned.

_"Hey, come on now, that's it. Good, Ryan. Good."_

Ryan would have laughed if he could.

Sandy was treating him like a little puppy. It didn't even embarrass Ryan, because he liked having someone who cared.

Not that he would say that, because that was stupid, but still.

His eyelids were halfway up now, and he could see the silhouette of his guardian.

"Hey there, Ryan."

Ryan tried to grunt, but his throat only let out a raspy breath.

Sandy reached for the call button.

"We'll get you some ice chips, ok?"

Ryan blinked in response.

Sandy was beginning to focus in Ryan's eyesight, and along with the new visual came a jab of pain in his upper body when he tried to move for a better view.

Ryan took three short, shaky breaths.

Sandy blurred for a second.

"Woah. Watch it, Ryan. Careful with your breathing. You've got some fractured ribs that aren't gonna like any of those quick breaths."

A nurse left a cup in Sandy's hand with a spoon, smiled at Ryan, and left.

Sandy put the cup on the table beside Ryan's bed.

"If you're at all wondering, I learned how to deal with hospital patients from when Kirsten was pregnant with Seth. I also learned to do things like this quickly, but sadly, my skills have vanished over the years."

Ryan swallowed and frowned.

Sandy was talking too loud for his taste.

Although, of that, he couldn't be quite sure, because everything was loud, so he suddenly felt like an ass for thinking it was Sandy's fault.

Sandy fiddled with the bed, mumbling about it not working and pulling every lever for a few minutes until it came up so Ryan was sitting.

Ryan blinked at Sandy, who picked the cup up from its spot on the table.

He put a few ice chips into the spoon carefully, and Ryan kept his eyes on the spoon.

"Open your mouth, Ryan."

Ryan opened his eyes wide and frowned.

Finally realizing what Sandy was doing, he grunted as well as he could and weakly reached for the plastic cup.

Sandy pulled it back.

"Hey. No, it's ok. I've got it."

Ryan shook his head a little and reached further out.

He silently pleaded with Sandy, glanced over to his shaking hand, and tried to steady it.

"Ryan. I'm not going to tell anyone."

Ryan gave Sandy the best glare he could muster and dropped his hand to his side.

Sandy moved his chair closer to Ryan and held the spoon out.

Ryan, still glaring, slowly opened his mouth and let Sandy drop the ice chips into it.

"Now don't bite those. Just suck on them. Good."

Sandy cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable.

Ryan felt the cool liquid travel down his throat.

"So, uh, how are you feeling, Ryan?"

Sandy spooned two more ice chips and waited.

A few seconds passed before Ryan acknowledged the question.

He gave Sandy a small shrug.

"Fine, I guess."

Sandy's raised eyebrows seemed to believe differently.

"Fine? Ryan, you don't look fine."

Ryan sighed.

He didn't say anything, instead opening his mouth to accept the ice chips.

"How are you really feeling?"

Another sigh.

Ryan figured he'd be better off to give Sandy the answer he wanted.

"Not so good."

His voice was low and grating and he coughed to make it sound normal, surprised when a wave of pain hit his chest and head.

He closed his eyes tight, leaned forward, waited for the pain and the ringing in his ears to pass.

Sandy's hand was on his back, moving in slow circles.

"You want me to call a nurse, Ryan?"

Sandy had never sounded that way before.

Ryan had never heard him sound so worried. So drained.

He shook his head as slowly as possible and took as deep a breath as his ribs would allow him to.

"Just sit back now, ok? I'll stay as long as you need me, Ryan."

Ryan obeyed the command.

Sandy's words triggered something in his mind.

Sandy still had to go somewhere to be with someone, and it took Ryan a few moments to rearrange all the memories in his head in their correct order.

Seth. Knife. Eddie.

"Seth?"

He was proud of the fact that his voice sounded a little more normal now, and less like that of Wolverine's. Or what he thought Wolverine sounded like. They all sounded the same to him.

Seth would kill him if he admitted that he really didn't know all the X-Men's names and their powers.

Sandy put a hand on the top of Ryan's head.

"Seth's ok. Don't worry about him right now. Worry about you."

Ryan closed his eyes.

He was an unfamiliar person to be worried about.

In fact, he was finding it easier to worry about Seth. And Theresa. And oh, god, Eddie.

"Sandy?"

Sandy took his hand again.

"Yeah, Ryan?"

Ryan blinked a few times to remember what he was trying to say. He kept his eyes closed after he succeeded.

"Why'd you come here?"

His voice broke near the end, and he tried to clear his throat without further hurting his ribs and chest.

Sandy let out what, under different circumstances, would have been considered a laugh. To Ryan it sounded more like a sob.

"How can you even ask me that? Ryan? You know why."

Ryan let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"But Seth is... he..."

Sandy let go of Ryan's hand, and Ryan found himself missing the physical contact with his foster father.

Ryan opened his eyes.

"Seth is fine. Seth isn't hurt. You're hurt, Ryan. Seth is... I mean, Seth's hurt, but he's not hurt like you are. A few days in..."

Sandy paused. Ryan looked around, his eyelids heavy.

"A few days in juvie isn't going to kill him. Not that I'm saying he deserves those few days, because I mean, from what he's told me, it was self defense. But I have to try and get him out of there as soon as possible."

Ryan frowned and watched Sandy do the same.

"I think I talked myself in a circle."

Ryan let out a quick breath that, to him, was a laugh.

Sandy took his hand for the third time.

"Don't worry, Ryan. I'll be here for the next few hours and then I've gotta go pick Kirsten up at the house to bring her here."

Ryan thought about it for a second.

"Wait. Kirsten can drive down here herself."

He thought his voice sounded a little worse, and apparently, Sandy agreed, because he put another ice chip in the spoon and waited for Ryan to open his mouth.

"Yes, well, Kirsten forgot to bring her damn cell phone with her to the spa, so I had to pull her out of her treatment by calling the manager and leaving a message on the answering machine. Apparently she didn't want to talk to me. Something tells me she won't be reacting well to the news."

Ryan opened his mouth and Sandy dropped the ice chips into it.

Ryan thought that Sandy sounded angry.

At who, he didn't know.

Which scared him.

"I'm sorry."

Ryan sucked on the ice chip.

Sandy put the cup down and it clacked when it came in contact with the table.

"Sorry? Ryan, for what?"

Ryan felt his emotions start to bubble over, but he kept them in check.

He was sorry for every goddamn thing in his life that he did wrong.

If it wasn't for him, Seth would be at home with his family instead of being scared and alone in juvie.

"Everything. I just-- I'm sorry, ok?"

He just wanted to sleep.

He knew he was contradicting his earlier protests against sleep and rest and anything that had to do with closed eyes, but he decided he had changed his mind.

He glanced over at Sandy before closing his eyes.

"I want to get out of here."

Ryan said it mostly to himself, but he knew Sandy would overhear.

"I know. Don't worry, you'll only be here about a week and then we can take you home."

Ryan almost opened his eyes.

Home was with Theresa, in their little house near Eva's.

Home was where the bed squeaked loudly because of the old mattress.

Somehow, Ryan highly doubted Sandy was talking about home in Chino.

He didn't have the energy to say anything, so he didn't.

But he would.

As soon as he got some sleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan felt a little better when he woke up a few hours later. It was already early afternoon, and a nurse was looking at things on a clipboard.

"Hi there, Ryan. How are you feeling?"

Ryan swallowed.

He decided to test his voice.

"Fine, thank you, ma'am."

The 'thank you' didn't really come out right, or, actually, at all, but he decided to let it slide.

The nurse did too, apparently, because she smiled and continued with her job.

Ryan watched her check his pulse.

"You've got a visitor, Ryan. See? Right there."

The nurse pointed at the corner of the room near Ryan's bed, where a blonde woman sat slumped in an uncomfortable looking chair, her hair in a loose ponytail.

Ryan looked up at the nurse, who smiled again. He cleared his throat and tried to reach for the ice chips on the night-table beside him.

The cup tipped over and fell to the ground.

Kirsten jumped in her chair and glanced around nervously.

The nurse hurried over to where the cup lay on the ground and started to clean it up.

Ryan grunted and tried to reach over the bed to help her.

"Ryan, sweetie, don't do that."

Kirsten.

Kirsten, who despite the dark circles under her eyes and lack of make-up, had the decency to put on a small, fake smile for Ryan, who felt like throwing up from the strain of reaching and twisting to try and help.

The nurse found a cloth and wiped the rest of the water up.

Ryan breathed through the pain.

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

The nurse smiled again and put a hand on his chest to make him lie down again.

Ryan looked at the hand and then looked at the bed.

It was flat again.

When that happened, he didn't know.

"Don't worry, Ryan. It's no problem. I'm going to get you some more ice chips so your mom can give them to you."

Ryan decided against correcting her.

Kirsten slid her chair closer to Ryan.

"How are you, Ryan?"

Ryan grimaced.

"Ok."

Kirsten had her hands on the edge on the bed, and she was wringing them nervously, squeezing her fingers together, squeezing her palms together, squeezing a fold of fabric.

She looked at him, tears in her eyes.

"Mrs. Cohen? Here you go."

The nurse handed Kirsten another plastic cup, and she mouthed a 'thank you'.

Ryan apologized again, the nurse smiled again.

"How do you, uh, raise this thing up?"

Kirsten put the cup on the table and read the instructions on the bed, successfully figuring out how to push it up.

Ryan gave her a careful smile.

"You know, I can do... that..."

He pointed at the cup.

Kirsten shook her head.

"I'd rather do it myself."

Ryan nodded.

"Ok."

He opened his mouth while she tried to spoon a few ice chips.

Her hand was shaking as she tried to keep from dropping the two chips in the spoon.

Ryan leaned forward despite his chest's protests.

"Where'd Sandy go?"

Ryan sucked on the ice while he spoke.

Kirsten was still tightly gripping the shaking spoon.

"Sandy had to go fill out a lot of paperwork about Seth. And you."

Ryan cringed.

Him. This was all his fault, whether the Cohens wanted to admit it or not.

Kirsten seemed to realize she was still holding the spoon, and she dropped it into the plastic cup.

"Hey, it's ok if you leave too, Kirsten. Seth is more important than me right now."

Kirsten sighed and looked at Ryan, her lip quivering.

Suddenly, she burst into tears, her left hand clasped to her mouth to silence herself.

"Uh... What's wrong? Please don't cry, Kirsten?"

Ryan put a hand on her arm, unsure of what to do.

She leaned forward and hugged him.

Ryan grunted at the tight feeling in his chest.

"Ok. It's ok, Kirsten."

Kirsten was clinging to his back and hugging him tightly, and his ribs dug into him.

He gasped and grunted in pain, caused Kirsten to let him go.

"Oh god, I hurt you. I'm so sorry. Here, let me call the nurse."

Ryan shook his head.

He didn't need more poking and talking and lights in his eye.

Even if he was a little trouble breathing.

"It's fine. I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

He started trying to breathe through the pain.

Kirsten kept her finger an inch away from the call button, ready for the occasion.

Ryan swallowed and quickened his breathing.

"Can you tell me what happened? I mean, everything that happened?"

His chest rose and fell rapidly with his quickening breaths, but he tried to make himself sound normal.

"Because, I mean, I don't even get what's going on, and I know Seth's in jail, and Eddie's... but this isn't making any sense and I've only retained about half of what Sandy told me."

He wasn't used to talking that much.

It all came out as one string of words, which made him more than a little angry.

He couldn't even sound normal doing something as seemingly easy as talking.

Then again, talking was never all that easy with Ryan.

Kirsten pressed the call button.

"Breathe slowly, sweetie. Everything's ok."

Ryan tried to breathe like she wanted him to, but his breaths came out ragged and short.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on trying to breathe right.

It didn't work.

He blinked a few times and opened his eyes to see Kirsten frantically pressing the call button.

"Alright, Ryan. Uh, deep breaths."

A nurse walked in briskly, and Kirsten jumped up and went back to her corner, stared at Ryan intently.

Ryan closed his eyes as tightly as he could as a doctor strapped an oxygen mask to his face.

"There you go, buddy. Deep breaths."

The mask smelled funny, but Ryan stayed quiet about that.

He felt so tired from all the effort his irregular breathing took, but he needed to know everything that was going on with Seth.

The doctor said a few more things to Kirsten before leaving.

Kirsten nodded and sat down next to Ryan, once again gripping her hands together.

"Please tell me what's going on with Seth?"

Ryan talked as loud as he could so he could be heard over the whirring oxygen mask.

Kirsten touched his cheek.

"When you feel better, Ryan. Just sleep now."

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Ryan was awoken three times after that.

The first time, for more medication. They hadn't meant to wake him up, but they did.

The second time, another check-up by the nurse whose name he had already forgotten.

"What the hell do you mean, Sandy? What do you mean, 'cut'?"

The third time, by Kirsten.

"No, I will not calm down. Tell me what the hell happened to Seth. Tell me now or I'm coming down there and causing a scene."

Ryan blinked, opened his eyes, groggily took in his surroundings.

Kirsten's dark form was seen pacing back and forth with a cell phone at her ear.

"No. No, Sandy, I can't stay here. I have to know what happened to Seth or I'm not staying here."

Ryan grimaced despite his best attempts not to.

He lifted himself to his elbows.

"Kirsten?"

For a second, Ryan hoped she hadn't heard him.

She turned around and stared at him, and Ryan guessed that if he could see her face clearly, she would have had a 'deer in headlights' expression on her face.

Kirsten's cell phone hand wavered for a second.

"Sandy, call me back when you know anything about Seth, alright?"

She snapped the cell phone shut and walked over to Ryan.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie. I didn't mean that. I didn't mean it."

She fumbled in the darkness to grab Ryan's hand and gripped it tightly.

Ryan bit his bottom lip.

"It's ok. Go see Seth."

Kirsten shook her head and gently pushed Ryan back so he was lying down again.

Ryan took in the fact that the bed was once again flat.

Whoever it was that was flattening the bed was really, really good, Ryan thought.

Kirsten awkwardly kissed the top of his head and pulled back.

"I'm staying here, Ryan. Don't worry."

Ryan wasn't worried.

He wasn't worried and he wasn't scared because he was almost an adult and adults didn't get scared.

Kirsten smiled.

"And when Sandy calls to tell us what-- if anything-- is wrong, we'll work through it together, alright?"

Ryan nodded weakly.

Kirsten's smile faltered slightly when Ryan closed his eyes halfway, leaving a slit to see Kirsten through.

He fell asleep to her quiet tears.

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End file.
